


Splash

by ishouldwritethatdown



Series: Post-Hephaestus Space Kids [3]
Category: Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Doug Remembers, Back to Earth, Gen, Post-Canon, Rain, Roommates, bad musical references, even worse dancing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-10
Updated: 2017-07-10
Packaged: 2018-11-30 12:22:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11463522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ishouldwritethatdown/pseuds/ishouldwritethatdown
Summary: You know what you don't think you'll miss when you go to space? Rain. It falls because of gravity and air pressure and it isn't the same water filtered through a recycling system a billion times. If Minkowski's takeout goes cold because Eiffel decided to go get hypothermia, it might just be the last straw.





	Splash

Minkowski could swear she saw Eiffel’s ears prick like an excited Labrador at the sound of rain hitting the windows. His face lit up, grinning ear to ear, and he looked at her as if he expected the same reaction.

“Rain,” he said emphatically, as if she hadn’t caught on.

“So?” Minkowski had her Chinese takeout-laden fork in midair and was not about to be distracted by a little falling water.

He rolled his eyes and hopped up from his chair to peer out the window. His expression still radiated pure joy. When he moved away from the window, it wasn’t to sit back down but to hunt for his shoes, which he had flung off somewhere in the apartment some time earlier.

“It’s just rain, Eiffel. Did you get a little brain damage without me noticing?” Minkowski asked. Now he’d done it. He’d made her put down her fork.

“Commander, I don’t know if you noticed, but there wasn’t all that much precipitation up there with the big blue wolf,” Eiffel wore an expression that said he was being serious, but he was also hopping on one foot trying to yank his shoe over his heel without untying the laces.

She made a face that approximated, “Fair enough.” She could see his point. “We had radiation showers,” she joked.

Eiffel laughed, “Yeah, well. Gravity. Water that hasn’t been cycled through a recycling system a billion times. Rain is everything I’ve been missing.” He finally reigned triumphant over his shoe and started at what might’ve been a jog out of the apartment. In a t-shirt.

Minkowski sighed, swiped their jackets off the hook, and followed him down the stairs. By the time she got to the front of the building, Eiffel was already drenched in rainwater. He had his arms held out and his eyes shut as he tilted his face towards the clouds on the corner of the sidewalk. His blinding grin was back and brighter than ever.

“Eiffel, for God’s sake, put a jacket on,” she ordered, and held out the waterproof she’d brought for him. She was still sheltered by the building, but her hand was quickly losing heat from the water splashing on it.

He didn’t move, his grin unfaltering, as if he were soaking up the sun. The look on his face was something she realised she had never seen before. He looked… peaceful. When they’d first touched down back on Earth they hadn’t had a moment where they breathed, “We’re home.” There was too much tension. Too much anxiety for their futures. But she realised she was witnessing Eiffel’s “We’re home” moment.

And all of a sudden she could see it. A tiny Doug Eiffel, hopping from puddle to puddle while his raincoat flapped open, giggling at the splashes he made. She could see him shriek with laughter as he left no passer-by unsplashed, no matter how big their umbrella. She could see him waving at his own reflection before kicking it into oblivion.

“You’re going to catch hypothermia,” Minkowski scolded Eiffel, who now appeared to be making an attempt at tap dancing.

“I’m singin’ in the rain, just singin’ in the rain. What a glorious feeling, I’m happy again!” he sang. It was off-key and out of time. In the absence of a lamppost to swing from, he just spun on the spot.

With a flourish, he extended his arms again and continued, “Come on with the rain, I’ve a smile on my face!” He made a vague rhythm with his feet and swung his arms around.

Minkowski couldn’t help but laugh. She hated that she was encouraging him. “That’s not how the song goes,” she told him.

He skipped towards her and took her hands. His were freezing.

“No, nononononono,” she shook her head, but it was too late; he had already dragged her into the downpour.

He persisted in his incorrect rendition of Singin’ in the Rain and moved their arms roughly to the beat like they were at a bad middle school disco. This was the biggest smile she’d ever seen on him in person. She could only think of one other place she’d seen him look that happy.

The image in her head of baby Eiffel changed. A slightly lanky young man with a mop of sopping wet hair held his baby girl by her mittened hands and lifted her up into the air, and brought her feet right down into the biggest puddle. They laughed and spun around, oblivious to the disapproving looks of the grown-ups rushing by.

When he’d said that rain was everything he’d been missing, he really meant it.

He caught the look on her face. The smile on his own faded, not exactly into sadness; almost guilt. He nodded and dropped his gaze, “Okay, let’s go inside.”

She felt a pang of something in her for ruining his moment. But he looked up and smiled at her – not the supernova he’d had a minute ago, but a gentler, warm smile – and said, “Is this a good enough excuse for hot cocoa and blankets?”


End file.
